The Fine Art of Submission
by Kumiko Hasegawa
Summary: In which the stunning archaeologist teaches the oblivious swordsman and the fumbling cook a few things about the bedroom. RoZoSan RATED M.


My Robin x Zoro x Sanji threeway. Yep.

Please find the cover image on my tumblr: kumiko-sama-chan.

This fic is **rated M** for reasons.

I do not own One Piece.

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Sanji sighed quietly as he rhythmically cut into one piece of fruit after another, the steady unbroken pattern of metal thumping against wood filling the kitchen. He should have been finding joy in creating the sweet afternoon snack for his lovely ladies, but his mind kept drifting away and settling on a decidedly less appealing crewmember; namely, a certain muscle-bound, grass green, shit eating, sake guzzling, infuriating swordsman. His relationship with the irritating man had always been easy enough to understand. They were crewmates; they were rivals; and above all, they were nakama. At least that was until recently, when they had added a new title to their short list.

Lovers.

It had started the same way that anything else happened between the two of them, in a knock-down drag-out fight that coincided with some damage to the Sunny—much to Franky's chagrin—and several minor injuries that, as usual, went unnoticed by the dueling swordsman and cook. But what had begun as a typical brawl between the two Straw Hats had ended with them in one of the store rooms below deck. Naked. And on top of and tangled around and _inside_ one another. It had been one of the most impassioned experiences of Sanji's life. When they had finally broken away from each other, it had taken him several hours to come down from the euphoric high. His body had screamed at him from the new thrill of physical stimulus, and he'd found himself simultaneously exhausted and craving more. So, it came as no surprise when the next fight ended on the floor of the bathroom with his clothes piled on the tile and Zoro wearing only his haramaki.

But it hadn't taken long for the initial excitement to fade, the spark of passion flaring white hot after one particularly violent fight and then dying. They were still having sex on a regular basis, but it had almost become more about routine, like a new way to stretch tense muscles after a vigorous work out. Even after several such encounters, Sanji and Zoro remained ever competitive, each fighting to gain the upper hand and outlast the other. It had been exhilarating at first. It was a new challenge and a new fight for him to win. However, the lack of a deeper connection left Sanji wanting more. He'd felt stirrings for the damned marimo, and the constant empty angry sex that was more akin to fighting than love-making only left him feeling lost and empty.

With a sharp intake of breath, Sanji caught himself inches away from slicing into his thumb. He really needed to be more careful. He would never forgive himself if he ruined Nami's and Robin's food by bleeding all over it. Not only would he disappoint them, but it would be such a horrendous waste of food. Banishing Zoro from his thoughts for the moment, the Straw Hat cook added the final touches to his fair maidens' treats. Stepping back, he studied the dishes for a moment, feeling a surge of pride. He had tried a new recipe and it had turned out splendidly. Sitting before him on the counter were probably the two most heavenly fruit tarts ever created, perfectly suited to the angels that he would be serving. One tangerine with crème for Nami and the other raspberry with dark chocolate drizzle for Robin, the dishes complimented each of the women, embodying their tastes and personalities down to the smallest and most subtle flavor profile. Sanji grinned wide as he admired his handiwork. He couldn't wait to see their reactions to his newest confectionary delights.

Moving with the efficient ease that only comes from years of practice and dedication, he plated the treats, taking a moment to decorate the fine white china with swirling lines of chocolate and caramel and an elegant swipe of whipped cream. Then with a graceful sweep, he placed each creation on a wide tray and made his way out onto the deck.

The air outside was warm and balmy, a gentle breeze sweeping across the water causing the grassy deck to shimmer in waves. Across the deck, he could see Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper wreaking some obscure yet frightening breed of havoc upon each other, the result of which was uproarious laughter punctuated by the occasional scream. Sanji shrugged. At least they were distracted, and far away from Nami, who was sunning herself at the base of the stairs. If he could just give the navigator her snack quietly enough, they might avoid detection and the resulting onslaught of often very physical and disruptive begging. But, on this occasion, luck was against the cook. No sooner had he stepped from the wooden stairs to the grassy deck and bent to offer the carefully prepared delicacy to Nami, than a certain rubberman appeared out of thin air, his grinning face just inches from Sanji's own.

"What's that Sanji?" asked the Straw Hat captain just a little too loudly given his proximity to the cook's ear. "They look good! Can I have one?"

Sanji flinched away from his captain's grabby hands, his jerking motion causing the plates to tip precariously on the tray. Raising a defensive leg, he jammed his foot into Luffy's face, just barely managing to hold him away from his lovely ladies' treats. Their scuffle soon drew the attention of Usopp and Chopper, who quickly joined Luffy in his begging for snacks.

"Boys," interrupted Nami after several tense minutes of half-sparring, her bikini clad chest heaving with an exasperated sigh. She didn't bother to open her eyes as she spoke, exuding that special kind of calm that never boded well for her crewmates. "If a single crumb of that gets on my new bathing suit, I will personally navigate your sorry asses into the sea. Got that?"

"Yes, Nami-swan!" cried Sanji, while Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper made very loud disappointed sounds. All but completely ignoring his male crewmates, the cook offered the specially prepared fruit tart to Nami once again, only to have to _once again_ fend off a second attempt by his captain to claim the sweet for himself.

"But Sanji, I want one!" whined Luffy, his voice slightly muffled by the sole of Sanji's shoe. He reached for the tray with waggling rubber fingers, and Sanji snapped.

"YOURS IS IN THE KITCHEN!" he bellowed, practically baring fangs at the hungry trio.

The three pirates needed no second urging, each of them roughly shoving the other aside in his desperate attempt to reach the galley first. Within seconds, the cook and the navigator had completely moved on with their lives, turning back toward each other as Sanji offered her the fruit tart with his most dashing smile.

"For my lady."

"Thank you, Sanji-kun." Nami took the plate with a cheerful smile, as if the entire altercation and subsequent threats of drowning moments before had never happened.

Satisfied that the first of two treats had been delivered, Sanji stood up and surveyed the deck in search of Robin—or any other threats that may have been posed by his raucous crewmates. Franky was at the helm, lazily steering the Sunny through calm waters, and he had seen Brook sneak after the other boys into the kitchen. But Robin was nowhere in sight. Nor was, for that matter, Zoro.

"Where is Robin-chan?" asked Sanji, turning back toward the stunningly beautiful navigator.

"She said she would be in the library reading," Nami muttered absentmindedly in response, her attention drawn toward the carefully placed composition of tangerines on pastry that occupied her plate.

The cook allowed himself a small, satisfied grin at Nami's enraptured response to his cooking. He really had outdone himself this time. As much as he would have loved to stay and watch the redhead enjoy his cooking, he would have done so at the risk of another all out assault for food by Luffy; and he would throw himself into the sea before he allowed Robin's dish to come to such an untimely end. Turning away from the very contented Nami, Sanji made his way up to the library.

As he climbed the ladder to the usually forgotten room, being careful to balance the tray of food above his head with one hand, it occurred to him how strange it was for Robin to be inside on a day like today. Though he had noticed that she was more careful about her complexion than Nami—often donning wide-brimmed hats or using an umbrella to fend off the sun's harmful rays—the archaeologist rarely, if ever, passed up the opportunity to sit in the open air. Sanji frowned to himself and wondered if perhaps she wasn't feeling well. If that was the case, he hoped that she would tell him. Between him and Chopper, Sanji was certain that they could find the antidote to whatever ailed her.

Holding the tray high above his head, Sanji let the raspberry tart enter the lofted space first. Popping his head up out of the floor, he grinned wide at the archaeologist, who was seated on the gently curving bench under the windows, surrounded by a stack of books.

"Hello, Robin-chwan!" he cried, unable to mask the pleased melody that crept into his voice anytime he addressed the stunning woman.

Robin smiled amiably in response, the book she had been reading still held aloft as she watched the cook cross the small room.

"You are right on time, as always, Cook-san," complimented Robin.

Sanji beamed. Of course Robin, being the smart, talented, wonderful person that she was, would notice that he served their afternoon tea at exactly the same time every single day. He had put careful thought into when to feed the crew, ever mindful of ensuring that neither empty stomachs nor overfull ones would hinder their ability to perform at their top levels at sea. The gesture had gone woefully unnoticed by most of the Straw Hats, but here Robin was praising him for it. It was incredibly gratifying.

With a dramatic flourish, Sanji deposited the tray on Nami's desk, intending to allow Robin to choose where she would eat. He hummed happily to himself as he laid out the food, completely unaware of the shift in mood in the room until he turned to leave only to find his path blocked by the gently smiling archaeologist. Sanji startled slightly. When had Robin gotten up? And why was she standing so close? Sanji swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly very dry in the intimately close proximity to one of the subjects of his frequent fantasies.

"Is there"—he paused to lick dry lips when his voice cracked under the strain of the archaeologist's intense gaze—"Is there something else I can do for you, Robin-chan?"

"I understand that you and Swordsman-san have been…_fighting_ a lot, of late," said Robin, stepping closer to Sanji so that her body overwhelmed his vision.

"You—You want to talk about that shitty moss head?" Sanji stuttered, side-stepping his crewmate and making for the hatch in the floor. He needed to find a private place, fast. Another minute in the company of the stunning woman standing so, _so_ close to him and gazing at him that way would only end in his body doing something that was both incredibly embarrassing and totally involuntary. No, better to settle this in private.

He had made it half way around the spacious round table in the center of the room when a delicate hand on the shoulder stopped him in his tracks. A rush of heat from behind, followed closely by the feeling of an ample chest pressing against his back indicated that Robin was once again behind him. Sanji's heart gave a good, hard, painful thump, and he found himself rooted to the floor.

"I have found that there are certain ways to go about fighting that leaves both parties far more satisfied," Robin murmured in his ear, her voice vibrating through his entire body.

"F-Fighting?" All of Sanji was shivering and shaking under the archaeologist's simple touch, and he suddenly found his tongue very uncooperative.

Robin hummed an affirmative response. "Swordsman-san should be here any minute. I thought I might give the two of you a lesson, if you would let me."

"A…A fighting lesson?"asked Sanji, his voice cracking for a second time when the hand on his shoulder reached up to trace his jaw line. Any semblance at composure that he might have tried to project escaped down the hatch along with the remnants of his sanity and problem-solving skills. Whatever chance there had been of him grasping the meaning behind the innuendo was gone, the cook struck as dumb as a lost marimo.

His question went unanswered as Robin busied herself with loosening his tie, making quick work of the knotted silk and sliding it from beneath his collar before tossing it casually aside. Sanji stood breathless and frozen, silently marveling at how dexterous Robin's hands really were as she began to unbutton his shirt one-handed. He only had to wonder what happened to the other hand for a moment, as he soon felt his belt being unbuckled, followed shortly by his pants being unfastened and the zipper slowly pulled down. He twitched rather violently in response, his hands jerking sharply as they sought to hide his current predicament below the beltline from his crewmate.

Robin was rather insistent however, and an extra set of hands suddenly sprang from the backs of his thighs (god, he had forgotten she could do that) and grabbed at his wrists, locking them in a vice-like grip behind his back. Yet another hand wound its fingers through the soft blonde hair at the back of his head, gently caressing him before fisting the silken strands and pulling his head back, earning a startled yelp from the cook.

"R-Robin-chan? Um—"

A hand clamped over his mouth, effectively quieting him.

"No more talking," ordered Robin. She had finished her one-handed work on the buttons of his shirt, and gently slipped the fabric from his shoulders. "We need to prepare you for your lesson."

Sanji mumbled something inaudible behind the hand over his mouth, shuddering as he felt a hand snake down the front of his opened pants and grasp at the blossoming erection through his boxers. Robin hummed in approval at his half-hardened member, slowly rubbing at it in such a way that the soft cotton dragged across the sensitive skin with just the right amount of friction to make Sanji's breath hitch in his throat.

By now, the cook had no idea which hands were actually attached to Robin's body and which ones had spontaneously sprung from his own. Tactile sensation completely overwhelmed him, flooding his rapidly short circuiting mind with wave after wave of stimulation as delicate fingers massaged his manhood, teased at his nipples, and raked across highly reactive flesh. It took all of Sanji's willpower just to keep his knees from buckling and his nose from bleeding, and even that level of multitasking was almost too much for him to handle. Soft lips pressed against the junction between his neck and shoulder, planting a firm kiss before opening to allow teeth access to the pale skin. Sanji whimpered around Robin's hand as she bit down and sucked at his neck, pausing only to lick at the new tender spot.

It was too much to handle. Sanji wasn't entirely sure what this had to do with fighting, but then again, he had the feeling that he had missed out on some sort of inside joke. The hand inside his pants had succeeded in its mission, and he could feel his erection straining against the warm moistened cotton. Robin's fingers ghosted over the cloth covered organ, torturing him with barely there touches until she found what she had been searching for. With the smallest of lunges that still nearly knocked him off-balance, she grabbed at the tip of his cock and squeezed, earning a breathless, whining gasp in response. His hips bucked against the action, and only a combination between his locked knees and the steadying hands that had sprung from the floor to grasp at his trembling legs kept him from falling.

And then he heard them.

Heavy booted footsteps and irritated grumbling echoing up the ladder and through the trap door. That's right; Robin had said that the shitty swordsman would be joining them.

Sanji instinctively snapped open eyes that he hadn't realized he'd closed, jerking his head upright in an attempt to see who was coming, even though he knew the answer. He didn't even have a chance to catch a glimpse of green hair before two new hands sprang from somewhere behind him and wrapped around his face, covering his eyes. With the help of the hand clamped over his mouth and the one gasping at his hair, they tilted his head back, leaving the half-naked and sweating cook feeling completely vulnerable and exposed.

Zoro's grumbling grew increasingly louder as he neared the hatch, and Sanji felt tension build in his back and shoulders. He felt so weak and helpless. And though it was arousing when in Robin's company, just the thought of letting the swordsman see him in such a state made him want to turn and run. Zoro was never going to let him live this down. He could almost hear the smug bastard laughing now.

"Oi, this better be good," came Zoro's irritated voice from the hole in the floor.

Sanji shuddered. _Oh, you have no idea._

He was so close, so close to breeching that void and entering the room. A pleading whine tried to work its way free of Sanji's throat, but was stopped by a sharp tug at his hair. There was no way to stop what was about to happen.

"If this is some trick that you and the Sea Witch came up with to try to make me take one of those girly baths, you're gonna have a whole other thing coming."

Zoro's voice was so close, Sanji was certain that he was only inches from seeing him. He wriggled in Robin's grasp, but she held him firm, giving his throbbing cock a punishing squeeze for good measure.

"Seriously, I will slice up that tub into tiny little pieces and feed them to Luffy before I let you soak me in that frilly smelly cra—oh…"

When Zoro drifted off mid-rant, Sanji knew that he had seen him. He could only imagine the look on the swordsman's face. His eyes would widen in shock at first as he was caught off guard by the sight of the archaeologist fondling the cook. Then his steely eyes would take on a hardened gleam, and that stupid shit-eating smirk would curl at his lips. He was never, ever going to let the cook live this one down.

"Would you care to join us, Swordsman-san?" asked Robin, her warm breath tickling at the growing bruise on Sanji's neck.

There was a moment of tense silence, and Sanji was certain that the swordsman was going to start laughing at any moment. A thunk told him that Zoro had stepped off of the ladder and several more echoed around the room as he slowly approached Robin and her very nervous captive chef. It was coming. That stupid smug laugh. Sanji felt a blush heat his face just at the thought of it.

Calloused fingertips whispered across his collarbone, tracing the edge of the defined line before circling Robin's bite mark and running up his awkwardly bent neck. Sanji was thrown completely off guard by the gentle touch from the normally rough swordsman, shivering slightly when Zoro ran his thumb over his Adam's Apple in a way that made his still confined cock twitch with want. When the swordsman's hand strayed from the sensitive spot, making for his jaw and the tender flesh behind his ear, the hand over Sanji's mouth reacted, slapping Zoro's away.

"Marimo, it's not what it looks like. I—mpf!" Whatever attempt Sanji may have made at explaining his current situation was quieted when Robin clamped the disembodied hand back over his mouth.

"Please be quiet, Cook-san," ordered Robin, simultaneously tightening her grip over his mouth and around his weeping erection for emphasis. Then she redirected her attention to Zoro. Sanji could almost feel her intense, likely predatory gaze moving away from him and fixing on the swordsman. "Strip."

Sanji wasn't sure how he had expected the moss ball to respond to Robin's demand, but he certainly didn't expect to hear the sound of his boots being kicked off, followed shortly by the rustle of pants, shirt, and haramaki being removed and tossed aside. There wouldn't be any underwear. Zoro rarely, if ever, wore underwear. He had discovered as much the first time that one of their brawls had turned into a fight of a different kind—oh, _that's_ what Robin had been referring to.

A sudden wave of body heat told him that not only was Zoro naked, but he was standing incredibly close to him once again. He could feel the swordsman's steady, unwavering gaze taking in every detail of his restrained body, from his furrowed brow and his disheveled hair to the multitude of hands running over his chest and abs to the very pronounced bulge begging for freedom from his boxers to his violently shaking knees. It suddenly became startlingly clear that Zoro wasn't going to laugh at him and leave. No, he intended to stay and take full advantage. Sanji could practically smell the arousal rolling off of the perverted plant in waves, and he felt a small amount of anger clutch at his gut. There was no way that he was just going to submit to the damned moss ball and let him have all of the control.

Robin, of course, had other plans. She must have made some sort of silent signal to Zoro, because Sanji felt the battle-worn hands return. Goosebumps erupted across his flesh, making his hair stand on end, as the swordsman pulled what little of his shirt remained tucked into his pants free. A new set of Flower Flower Fruit hands emerged from between Sanji's shoulder blades and grasped at his biceps and forearms, firmly holding his arms in place and allowing Zoro to pull the sleeves off and toss the shirt aside.

Next came his shoes. He could feel the telltale tug of the laces being untied, and then his feet being forcibly lifted one at a time to remove the expensive leather followed by his socks. A slight shiver ran up Sanji's spine when he felt Zoro's hands gently caressing the dangerous appendages. It was so tempting to kick him in the face. He wanted to lash out and berate the swordsman into the kind of interaction that they were used to, but Robin's army of hands held him firmly in place.

Zoro's attention remained on his feet for only a moment before it settled on the opened pants that hung loosely from his slender hips. With a slight yank, the black fabric was pulled free, rustling slightly as it slid down his legs and pooled around his feet. Once again, Robin maintained perfect control over his legs as one foot was lifted after the other, allowing Zoro to completely pull the pants away, leaving Sanji to stand between them wearing only his very tight, very confining, very dampened boxers.

He felt rough fingers hook over the elastic with the intention of completely stripping him, but a cluck of Robin's tongue stopped any further action. Sanji moaned and whimpered into the hand over his mouth. The soft cotton tickled and itched every time it came in contact with his cock, and he wanted nothing more than to be freed of the teasing stimulation.

"Have you tasted the cook before?" asked Robin, the sultry music in her voice sending a whole new wave of sensation rocketing straight for his groin. She licked delicately at the bite mark on his neck. "I dare say, it rivals his cooking."

_Taste?_ Just what was she getting at? Sanji's whole body was trembling as the multitude of hands continued their ruthless stimulation. He had lost track of Zoro's movements in the room, and the hand that had so diligently been working at his erection had disappeared, leaving his cock to twitch and weep and long for contact. Or so he thought. That is, until he felt lips press against the straining cloth-covered organ. The swordsman's hands wrapped around his hips, holding him firmly in place, as one hard kiss after another traced the bulge in his underwear from base to tip.

Meanwhile, a new hand was venturing down his back, gently fingering the cotton over his buttocks before coming to stop with a finger resting teasingly down the slight trench created in the fabric by his crack. The gentle touch tickled and tingled, and Sanji moaned in response.

As if on cue, the finger burrowed down through the cloth to touch at his entrance, pulling his boxers even tighter over his cock just as the mouth that had been taunting it with kisses opened and clamped down on it. An oddly powerful tongue raked over the bulge, running up and down it and adding significantly to the moisture collected in the cotton. The combined actions sent all of the blood rushing from Sanji's extremities and hurdling straight for his cock. The cook suddenly felt light-headed, his fingers tingling from the lack of blood flow. Then the mouth over his boxers latched onto him in earnest and gave a good hard suck.

With a pathetic whimper, Sanji's knees gave way as his body decided to cease proper functions entirely. Had it not been for Zoro gripping his hips and Robin's personal army of hands, he would have crumbled to the floor to lie in a twitching, moaning puddle. Instead, the swordsman and the archaeologist held him in place as they continued their relentless onslaught. After a few minutes of persistent sucking and licking, Zoro found the cook's head and raked his teeth across it in a way that made his pulse throb painfully hard. Sanji went completely limp then, falling back with his head resting against Robin's shoulder. It wasn't fair. If they kept this up, he was going to faint.

Robin seemed to have read his mind, because Sanji soon felt her backing away, using hands born from his back and the floor to gently lay him down. The other hands that had been running rampant over his sensitized body disappeared in a flurry of petals, though the ones covering his mouth and eyes remained. A new set of the disembodied appendages sprang from the wood above his head, grabbing at his wrists before he could make use of his freed arms and trapping them once again. Not that he really noticed.

All the while, Zoro hadn't paused in his attempts to nurse Sanji dry. The swordsman bent over him now, his heated breaths tickling the skin over his boxers, as he continued to suckle and nip and lick at his weeping head. Sanji's long pale legs quivered violently on either side of the tanned body, nearly snapping shut around the green hair when Zoro found his slit and promptly burrowed his tongue inside, pressing the suddenly very itchy cotton down into the sensitive skin.

Sanji moaned at the near torturous sensation. It wasn't fair. Zoro was winning, and he was losing, and it just wasn't fair. Just a little more and he would come without ever having a chance at battling against the swordsman's onslaught of stimulation. Just the thought at giving in so easily made his blood boil and his stomach turn. Sanji felt so weak, letting Zoro dominate him like that, and he didn't understand how this was supposed to teach him anything.

Seeming to sense his distress, Robin moved away from his head to grab at and push away Zoro, acting just in time to save Sanji from coming into his boxers. Even through the wet fabric of his boxers, the air in the library felt frigidly cold compared to the heat of Zoro's mouth, and Sanji thought for a moment that he may have made a mistake. Only seconds before he had been fuming over the swordsman's domination of his body, but now he suddenly missed the contact.

He gasped as the weight of a body settled onto his still trapped erection, Robin's legs clamping around his sides as she straddled him. Sanji could hear her murmuring something to the marimo, but he couldn't make out the words over the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears. Then, she slowly began to move, grinding leisurely against his cock in a way that made the cotton of his boxers pull and rake across the organ. Sanji moaned into the hand over his mouth, his back arching slightly as he subconsciously begged for more pressure. Sanji had no idea what had become of Zoro, and he didn't really care. All that existed for the cook in that moment was the feeling of Robin's body against his own; the way that she rubbed against him and the way her hands ran over his skin.

Somewhere near his feet, he heard Zoro groan and then give an uncharacteristic whimper. Whatever it was that Robin was doing to him was apparently working. Curious, Sanji twitched his head upward, straining against the hands that covered his face as he attempted to see just what the archaeologist had done.

"You wish to see, Cook-san?" The sound of Robin's voice reverberated through her body and straight into Sanji's groin, and he suddenly felt twice as hard as he had before.

Whining slightly behind her hand, he nodded. As much as he had fantasized about sharing this intimate moment with only Robin, his curiosity was getting the better of him. Sanji could almost hear her smile at his eager response.

"Very well," conceded Robin. Sanji felt her lift her hips, and a hand reached under the elastic of his boxers to tease at heated flesh. "But in return, you have to do everything I say. Understood?"

Sanji nodded again.

The hands over his eyes disappeared in a flurry of petals, and for a few moments Sanji could only lie on the floor and blink in wonder at the ceiling. Then a fresh set of hands sprang from the floor and lifted his head, giving him a full view of Robin's beautiful, delicate back and the shapely legs on either side of his body. The odd angle did, however, block whatever view he might have had of the shitty swordsman, and Sanji furrowed his brow as he strained to see past Robin.

Robin glanced back at him, arching a graceful eyebrow. Shifting to the side, she allowed him a full view of Zoro, and what Sanji saw took his breath away.

The first thing that struck him was that Zoro was on his knees. The swordsman's arms were wrenched behind his back, held firmly in place by three pairs of hands, completely exposing his broad chest and shoulders; which, if the multitude of bite marks and bruises gave any indication, Robin had been more than happy to stimulate and abuse. There was a set of perfectly spaced crescent shaped marks circling his left nipple, and just the sight of the pert, reddened bud made Sanji's mouth run dry.

His eyes only lingered on Zoro's stretched and straining chest for a minute, and then they moved on. Four more hands had grabbed at the swordsman's hair and forehead, pulling at them and bending his neck into a beautifully awkward arch. Sanji could see the other man's muscles straining against Robin's hands, some of his veins standing out against his tanned skin, and the rapid beating of his pulse plainly visible. How Robin was maintaining such control over the powerful man was beyond Sanji's ability to comprehend. Every time he and Zoro had ever lain together, it had been a constant struggle, and here the petite archaeologist was doing it with such ease.

Travelling down Zoro's body, Sanji took in every bulging muscle and straining limb until his gaze finally settled on the swordsman's cock and the reason for his compliance.

A pair of hands that had sprouted from Zoro's inner thighs had the sensitive organ in their grasp. One stroked at it, earning the occasional shiver from the sweating marimo, while the other was firmly wrapped around the head with the thumb pressed against the tip. As Sanji watched in panting, muted bewilderment, Robin burrowed her thumb inside the swordsman's slit, earning a simultaneous shiver and groan from both men. Sanji's cock twitched with jealous want beneath Robin's body, and she reached further inside his boxers, threading her fingers through blonde hair until she found her prize.

Sanji's eyes fluttered closed and his hips bucked upwards when he felt her dexterous fingers ghost over his heated flesh. He needed more than this perpetual teasing. He yearned for closer contact; more intimate contact. Most of all, he wanted Zoro.

He whined into Robin's hand, and struggled weakly against the rest that held him to the floor. Sanji desperately wanted to beg her to release him and Zoro, and let them work through the tidal wave of feeling that ran through his body like one electric shock after another.

"Cook-san. Look." Robin's voice was quiet, yet commanding, and Sanji could only obey.

Shaking violently beneath the onslaught of physical and auditory stimuli, it took all of Sanji's strength to crack open his eyes. A mixture of stress, pleasure, and emotion blurred his vision, but he was still able to make out Zoro's face through the haze. The swordsman had locked him with an intense stare, his grey eyes glistening with moisture of their own and his cheeks colored with a shade of red that Sanji had never seen on them before. All of Sanji's attention remained fixed on Zoro's expression, and he barely noticed Robin's small smile, only registering that she was even still there when she retracted her hand from his boxers and slid up until she was straddling his chest, completely obscuring his view. He must have made a disappointed sound, because the hands that had covered his eyes reappeared, folding over his face once more and pulling his head back to the floor.

With the same agonizingly slow and deliberate movements as all the others, Robin pulled away his last layer of clothing, tugging slightly to free his cock from the moistened cotton, and using spare sets of hands to slide it down his legs and over his feet. Sanji gasped into the palm over his mouth when his erection finally sprang free of its prison, the surrounding air feeling excruciatingly cold against the heated flesh. A familiar radiating warmth told him that Zoro was maneuvering himself between his shaking legs, and Sanji subconsciously raised his hips in invitation. He could feel the swordsman shivering eagerly between the dangerous appendages, the occasional violent shudder causing him to lean against one of the pale limbs. Zoro had gotten close enough that his knees were touching Sanji's backside, when the cook heard Robin cluck her tongue in warning.

"Not yet, Swordsman-san," she murmured.

A chill ran up Sanji's spine, and goosebumps erupted across his chest in spite of the seemingly overwhelming heat that suddenly enveloped the room.

"First," continued Robin, "he must be properly prepared."

_Prepared?_ Sanji furrowed his brow. What did she mean by prepared? He wasn't terribly well versed in the subtle intricacies of the bedroom—Zoro had been his first—but he knew the basic mechanics, and the word "prepare" had never come into the picture. Did she mean foreplay? Didn't the events of the last, what, twenty minutes count? What had all of that been, if not preparation? The physical pleasure he got from sleeping with Zoro was always accompanied by pain. Such was the dynamic of their relationship. They didn't know anything else.

"Each of you must trust the other," said Robin. Somewhere under her words, Sanji could hear a sucking noise, similar to the sounds Zoro had made when his mouth had been closed around his cock. Then he heard a faint slurp and several new hands pulled his legs up, back, and to the sides, while the saliva moistened fingers of another teased at his entrance. "Both of you must open up and submit to each other."

Then the first slicked finger breached him, sliding through the puckered hole just quickly enough to surprise him, but not so fast as to hurt him. Sanji arched his back at the sensation and moaned. The way Robin was touching him felt so good, without the underlying pain that he had always associated with sex. Slowly, she added a second finger, and then a third, gently moving them in and out at a steady pace as she stretched the tight rings of muscle. Sanji's breathing grew more and more irregular as she worked. There was a deep well of heat and pressure building in the pit of his stomach, threatening with more and more vigor to spill forth with every movement the archaeologist made. Then, just when he was certain that he would burst, the fingers withdrew and disappeared, the resulting pink petals tickling his hypersensitive skin as they rained against it.

Sanji moaned at the lost contact, only to have the sound catch in his throat when he felt his legs lifted further, and Zoro's significantly larger cock aligned with his entrance. The tip of the throbbing organ was moistened with precum, sweat, and possibly more of Zoro's saliva, but Sanji felt himself tense nonetheless. The initial thrust always hurt. Always. And he was never quite ready for the pain.

Soft knuckles brushed against Sanji's inner thighs as Robin guided Zoro in, forcing the normally eager swordsman to keep a slow pace. Sanji breathed in sharply when he felt Zoro's head pop inside, involuntarily clenching the muscles in his back, buttocks, and legs in response. Robin clucked her tongue at him, and pinched the skin over his weeping head in punishment.

"Relax, Cook-san. You have to trust him."

Slowly, and almost begrudgingly, Sanji let himself relax as he adjusted to the amount of space that Zoro took up inside of him. He let go a deep breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, and it suddenly felt as if his entire being had settled. Then Robin allowed Zoro to move. Sanji clenched his hands into fists, his nails scraping along the wood above his head, as Zoro slid further into him. He could feel his skin and muscle stretching uncomfortably to accommodate the foreign object, but it lacked the pain he had expected. Instead, a mixture of longing and excitement coursed through his veins, making his skin tingle and itch with anticipation.

Suddenly, Zoro began to move inside of him, pulling out and then easing back in, keeping each thrust in time with the pace set by Robin's murmured instructions. The slow, steady pace was both wonderful and horrible, simultaneously drawing out the pleasure and leaving Sanji wanting for more. He moaned wantonly into Robin's palm and rolled his hips upward, his short circuiting mind not even registering the lack of weight on his torso that allowed the movement. As the pace increased, Sanji could swear that he felt Zoro's calloused hands caressing his legs, running up his shins, over his knees, down the insides of his thighs, and then around to grip firmly at his hips. One wide palm only lingered for a moment, however, before reaching over and gently taking hold of his cock, pumping him in time with each increasingly powerful thrust.

Sanji was having a hard time breathing, his mouth gaping like a fish out of water, greedily taking in as much oxygen as possible with gasping breaths that were no longer hindered by a hand. Finding his arms freed, he fisted his hands in his own hair for lack of a better handhold, his eyes still squeezed shut under the onslaught of stimulation that Zoro was providing him. His heart was pounding madly in his chest, and goosebumps erupted in waves across his flesh, rolling across his body in unison with each throb of pressure that originated within him and build up in his hard, weeping cock. He heard Zoro make a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a moan, and suddenly his paralyzed tongue managed to bend around two panted syllables.

"Ngh…Zo—ro."

He arched his back, his nails digging into his scalp as he sought to hold the overwhelming tide of feeling in. Zoro paused his movements for a moment, apparently stunned by the small-voiced utterance, and then he leant forward, locking Sanji's lips in a firm but tender kiss, trapping his knees against his chest in the process. As he kissed the cook, Zoro drove in with one last powerful thrust, the new angle allowing him to strike at a place that he had never found before.

Colors and lights burst and faded like fireworks behind Sanji's eyelids, the floor seeming to fall away and slam into him all at once as the swordsman hit his prostate dead on. The euphoric high it created was beyond anything he had ever felt, and suddenly, Sanji could no longer hold back the ecstasy that he had somehow managed to dam up inside. With a shuddering breath and a deepening of the kiss, he came between them, his muscles spasming around Zoro's cock as he splashed their naked bodies with the substance that had been so shameful to him before.

Zoro followed suit within a few mere seconds, wrapping Sanji in a tight embrace as the orgasm rocked through his body and he filled the blonde to the brim. They remained with their lips pressed tightly against the others until both of them were utterly spent.

Breaking the kiss, Sanji opened his eyes in time to see Zoro mimic the action, and they stared at each other in silence for several shared heartbeats. Zoro freed one of his hands from their embrace, and wiped at a bead of moisture that had escaped from Sanji's eye to roll down his flushed cheek.

"Not bad, Cook," murmured Zoro with a shaky smirk.

Sanji returned the wobbly smile, and planted another kiss on the swordsman's lips. Other than their previous aggressive lip biting, they had never kissed before. Now that they had done it, Sanji found it nearly impossible to stop. He lingered over Zoro's mouth for a moment longer before pulling away.

"You weren't so bad, yourself, Marimo."

Sanji's heart kept malfunctioning as his eyes remained fixed within Zoro's. He was dizzy and giddy from what he had just experienced, the room still spinning slowly around him as he came down from his high. He had had no idea that this was what he had been missing. And, judging by the bemused expression on Zoro's face, the realization was only just dawning on the swordsman as well.

Finally, a clink of silverware on china pulled them away from each other. They simultaneously broke the other's gaze, Zoro looking up and Sanji tilting his head back against the floor as they looked in the direction of the sound.

Robin was seated at Nami's desk, not a single hair or article of clothing out of place, her legs crossed demurely at the ankle, as she finished off the last crumbs of the pastry Sanji had delivered to her. Ignoring them completely, she gave the fork one last delicate lick, cleaning the silver completely of any lingering chocolate and cream, before setting it down and turning her attention to the boys still tangled in each other's arms on the floor. A mixture of amusement and mischief sparkled in her eyes as she studied them, a small smile curving at her lips.

"The tart was quite good. Thank you, Cook-san," said Robin, standing and gracefully picking up the tray.

Zoro and Sanji watched in stunned and slightly confused silence as the archaeologist crossed the room, making for the hatch in the floor. Sanji swallowed thickly as he watched her move. How could she be so calm? And, for that matter, when the hell had she left them on the floor to eat her dessert?!

Robin gave them one last knowing look, the corner of her mouth curling with a sly smirk, before she disappeared down the ladder; her last words to them echoing around the library.

"I'll let the others know that dinner will be late."


End file.
